Coming Home
by foreverlarks
Summary: "I thought you'd never come back." Recognition flickers in his blue eyes, and he knows I mean more than him just coming back to Twelve. "I made you a promise, didn't I?" He gives a me tentative smile. Although it doesn't exactly quite reach his eyes, I feel hope and warmth spread throughout my chest. Already I see the boy with the bread fighting his way back to me. Everlark Post-MJ


**Title:** Coming Home

**Summary:** _"You know, for a moment there I thought you'd never come back." I see the recognition flicker in his blue eyes, and I'm certain that he knows I mean more than him coming back to Twelve._

_"Well, I made you a promise, didn't I?" He gives me a small, tentative smile. Although it doesn't exactly quite reach his eyes, I feel a mixture of hope and warmth spread throughout my chest. Already I see the boy with the bread fighting his way back to me._

**Author's Note: **This was beta'd by _jackass in the box_ a while back. I just felt like posting it since it's been sitting on my desktop for ages ahaha. To anyone with constructive criticism, please feel free to fire away. :) I extremely love CC. Oh, and please do review. :D Don't favorite without reviewing. I'd really love what you guys think of my first THG story.

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><p>A scream erupts from my throat as I find myself wide awake, covered in cold sweat. Tremors begin to wrack my body as I bury my head in my hands, clinging desperately to the sheets.<p>

I saw her again. Flaming. Shrieking. Dying.

It's the fifth night in a row where my mind refuses to let me sleep properly. And each and every time I wake up, I find myself overly fatigued and shaken. You'd think by now my body would allow me a few hours of rest. But no. It does nothing but render me defenseless against the countless symphony of horrors that plague me every time it gets dark. Burning flesh, festering wounds, coupled with the echoing scream of my sister – this is what I succumb to every time the dark overtakes me.

Immediately, my eyes dart to set of wooden drawers beside my bed as I stand up. I open the one I've become all too familiar with and take out the last of the syringes Dr. Aurelius had sent over from Thirteen. Inside is a glistening, clear liquid, a narcotic so strong every time I take it I'm out within a handful of seconds. However, just when I'm about to jab the sedative into my wrist, the door bursts open and the sound of footsteps cause me to turn my head around.

"Katniss?" It's Peeta. His cheeks are flushed and his breathing uneven. "I was walking by when I heard you scream. Is there anything I can—" He stops short when he scrutinizes the syringe I'm holding. A frown creeps its way onto his face as he takes on a look that I can only describe as feral. "Katniss, don't! No, you can't jus—"

"Don't worry, Peeta. I'm not trying to kill myself this time," I answer dryly, cutting him off. My voice comes out hoarse and parched like sandpaper. I try to feign nonchalance, but I can't help but contain my quiver. "Co-couldn't sleep. Seriously, it's nothing to worry about."

He raises an eyebrow, not quite believing me. Wild concern is etched into his blue eyes. "Are—are you sure?" he asks, struggling to keep his voice steady.

"Yes. Leave."

However, as soon as those words escape my mouth, a part of me immediately wants to take them back. The truth is I want – no, _need_ him to stay, need him to join me and hold me till I sleep, need him to get me through the night. But I hold my tongue and restrain myself. Because giving this boy – this beautiful, wonderful boy – who circumstances have wounded beyond measure another thing to worry about will probably only make matters worse. The last thing I want to do is to trigger some terrible, unwanted memory. Averting his stare, I sit down on the bed and start to inject the drug into my system.

"You saw her, didn't you?"

I pretend not to hear him, pressing the needle against my skin. The next thing I know, the glass vial is flying out of my hand and on the floor, cracked as liquid oozes out of it. My head whips towards him and I'm about to shout ugly, ugly words when he places his hands around my shoulders and looks at me raptly.

He repeats, "You saw her, didn't you? You saw Prim?"

It's when he says her name that I begin to feel tears prick dangerously at my eyes, weakening my resolve to appear indifferent. Emotions I've come to ignore begin surfacing back up. A choked sob escapes my lips as I give him a small nod.

Enveloping me in his arms, he mutters, "Not real, Katniss. Not real. Just a dream."

Tears begin to stream down my face as I bury my head in his chest. "But it was real, Peeta! I was there! I watched her burn!" My voice trembles as it comes out, slightly cracking as I recall the memory. My lip quivers. "Coin burned her just like she did the rest of them!"

To this, he doesn't have a reply. He merely continues to hold me as I carry on and weep.

It's when this myriad of emotions finally break through the thick façade I've set up do I finally begin to acknowledge the truth. That she's never going to come back. That no amount of my weeping or wishing's ever going to change the fact that death has finally taken a good hold of her. Never am I going to see her yet again. Nor am I going to hear her soft voice asking for just one more story, for just one more song as she slowly goes to sleep. She's gone, along with everything I've come to know.

Minutes pass, and then an hour. Finally, when I'm spent, he slowly pulls away and asks hesitantly, "Katniss, do … do you want me to join you tonight? It may be dangerous but I _swear_ to you I _won't_—if you just let me—"

He doesn't even finish his words when I give him an answer. "Yes. Stay."

Asking him to join me is probably suicide, considering it's only been two weeks since his arrival from recovery treatment back in Thirteen, but I don't care. I've been too emotionally starved, too deprived, to remain in touch with my sanity.

He makes his way towards my bed and sets himself beside me. He opens his arms and I go straight into them with no qualms. Although I'm aware that he's unsure if it's the right – the most _rational _thing to do, I know he'll always do his best to protect me, more than anyone ever can.

Gradually, he places one arm around my neck and allows me to rest against his shoulder, his other free arm tight against my waist. A memory pops up into my head and I'm transported back into a cave, where only his touch had made me feel safe.

For a moment, none of us speak, until I finally break the silence.

"You know, for a moment there I thought you'd never come back." I see the recognition flicker in his blue eyes, and I'm certain that he knows I mean more than him coming back to Twelve.

"Well, I made you a promise, didn't I?" He gives me a small, tentative smile. Although it doesn't exactly quite reach his eyes, I feel a mixture of hope and warmth spread throughout my chest. Already I see the boy with the bread fighting his way back to me.

Before I even know it, my head turns to him and my palm is pressed softly against his cheek. For a while, he shudders, probably warding off some nightmare. But when he presses his hand on top of mine, his grip is steady, strong, and warm – the way I always remember it to be.

In that moment, a hunger I thought has long gone enflames within me. My eyes go over to his mouth and I can't help but want to press my lips against his.

But I don't. Because it's too soon. Too soon and too raw. Amidst all the emotional turmoil, insanity, and loss we're going through right now, something like — like _this _is just going to mess things up even more than it already is.

So instead of giving into my wish, I begin to stroke his cheek, my fingers grazing the mar of scar tissue tucked beneath his ear. Eventually, I wind my hand into his hair and casually brush a few blonde strands to the side.

As I do this, I notice that he doesn't even tense towards my touch, which I find both a surprise and a relief. His soft blue eyes are merely transfixed in a solemn gaze. It's the sudden intensity in them that causes me to pause in my ministrations.

"Go to sleep, Katniss." His voice is soft and gentle, but I don't miss the commanding tone to it. "You're tired."

Immediately, my breath hitches and I feel my hands shake in agitation because _no, I don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to go to sleep and find myself set ablaze. I don't want to watch myself become a fire mutt, a grotesque creature that's nothing but a flaming hunk of flesh and bones. And most of all, I don't want to watch them strip _her _away from me, making everything that I've worked so hard to protect become nothing but a pile of ash. _

Peeta senses the sudden shift in my mood and takes both of my arms into his, pressing me closer to him. He dips his forehead close enough to make me feel his warm exhales against my cheek. Boring his eyes into mine, he murmurs, "I'm not going anywhere, remember? I'm staying right here. With you."

Little by little, I feel every bit of apprehension disappear. Because I believe him. Somewhere within his words is an unspoken promise that he'll protect me from anything that threatens to harm me. Not just tonight, but always.

"Okay."

Carefully, I curl myself closer to him and gently tuck my head beneath his chin. His arms encircle me in a tender embrace as I wrap the sheets tighter around me. Eventually, my eyes begin to feel heavy and I find myself succumbing to sleep, but not before he gently places a kiss upon my forehead.

It is the first time in a long time where nightmares don't haunt me.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Don't know whether turn this into a multiple set of one-shots or just a one-shot. Or perhaps I'll continue it in another series. Thoughts?


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